Why Good Leaders Look Arrogant (And How to Fix It)

The defensive habits leaders develop to protect themselves can become the very behaviours that destroy public trust.

“They’re actually really lovely in real life.”

It’s a phrase I hear surprisingly often from people who have met a leader in person and discovered, to their amazement, a perfectly pleasant human being.

Having worked with leaders in corporate and political life, I recognise the phenomenon. Intelligent, capable and often personable individuals can present publicly in ways that undermine precisely the qualities they possess and undermine trust in a time when trust is now the name of the game.

The problem is that, unlike actors on stage, politicians in the public eye are supposed to be playing themselves. And when the person we meet bears little resemblance to the person we see on television, something has gone terribly wrong.

How does a perfectly decent individual become someone the public perceives as arrogant, dismissive or, worse, contemptuous?

Two forces are at work: our unconscious habits of self-protection and the brutal reality that perception becomes reality.

And it all begins in the schoolroom.

Remember sitting in class, not listening, when suddenly the teacher called your name?

You stood, desperately searching for an answer. Being reasonably clever, you managed to produce one. But your body had other ideas.

Your shoulders tightened, your breath rose into your chest, your jaw clenched and your legs locked.

You survived.

And your nervous system learnt something important: that particular pattern of physical tension had accompanied your escape from danger.

Repeat such experiences often enough and defensive responses can become habitual. Decades later, the schoolroom has become a townhall or television studio, but the old habits remain.

Leaders believe they are being strong, but their body may be communicating something entirely different.

We see the head thrust forward, the jaw sealed, the arms pinned against the body and the weight shifting awkwardly from one leg to another.

These are not reliable indicators of character or intention. They may simply be habitual responses to pressure.

Unfortunately, the employee or voting public is not conducting a psychological assessment. It is making a judgement.

A clenched jaw can suggest aggression. A raised chin can suggest superiority. A tight smile can appear evil.

And then there is the most dangerous perception of all.

Contempt.

Contempt communicates that another person is beneath you. It can appear in a curled lip, an asymmetrical smile, an eye roll or a dismissive vocal tone.

Whether contempt is genuinely felt is another matter entirely. The problem is what the audience believes it has witnessed.

Consider Scott Morrison’s infamous “I don't hold a hose, mate” comment during the 2019 bushfires.

The statement was a factual observation about his role, but its defensive tone and timing invited a different interpretation. Morrison himself subsequently acknowledged that the remark had been unhelpful.

More recently, Victorian Premier Ben Carroll’s comment, "I'm the Premier, not the Roads Minister", when questioned about the state's deteriorating roads following the fatal crash of a 71-year-old motorcyclist on the Western Freeway, fell into the same pit.

The issue was not simply the words. It was the contempt they appeared to communicate.

And while politicians are those we most commonly see in the media, one can not let the Daniel Andrews period skip our minds.

While his supporters saw his style as decisive leadership, critics noticed an increasingly dismissive approach to questioning and disagreement. His description of protestors outside Parliament House as a “small, ugly mob” was enhanced by an eye droop, unstable stance and elongated vowels, which combined the forceful delivery, conveyed an impression of superiority.

We can not know whether his intention was contempt, but the point is that intentions are invisible, behaviour is not. 

And followers are unforgiving.

There is a further complication. As economic pressures mount and public confidence is tested, people need something different from their leaders.

They need strength without hostility. Authority without superiority. And, above all, evidence that their concerns are being heard.

Which brings me to Winston Churchill.

On June 4, 1940, following the evacuation of Dunkirk, Churchill delivered his famous “We shall fight on the beaches” speech to the House of Commons.

Britain faced an extraordinary threat. Churchill could have minimised the danger, dismissed public anxiety or retreated into defensive reassurance.

He did none of those things.

Instead, he acknowledged the seriousness of the situation while communicating determination and resolve.

His language was deliberate. His message was clear. His famous declaration that Britain would “never surrender” offered something beyond political self-preservation: a sense of shared purpose.

Churchill was hardly a model of perfect behaviour in every circumstance. But that speech demonstrates an essential distinction between reacting to pressure and communicating leadership.

The first concerns how you protect yourself. The second concerns what your audience needs from you.

And this is a skill, not an accident of personality.

It requires understanding the physical and vocal habits acquired over a lifetime, recognising how they affect others, and deliberately replacing them with behaviours that communicate the real you.

Where, I wonder, is that subject in the average law, engineering or commerce degree?

Yet these are precisely the disciplines from which so many of our political and corporate leaders emerge.

Executives spend years mastering strategy, finance and operations, only to discover that a defensive expression or dismissive tone can undermine their credibility in seconds.

The solution is a fundamental change of focus.

Stop asking, “How do I protect myself from this difficult encounter?”

Start asking, “How do I need to come across to the people who are depending on me?”

Because listeners cannot see the lovely person behind the defensive habits.

They can only see the leader standing in front of them.

And as the economy further struggles, that distinction can be devastating.

Let me know your thoughts. 

Love,
Dr Louise Mahler